


Patience

by Severina



Category: Oz (1997)
Genre: Community: hardtime100
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-20
Updated: 2010-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 17:15:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toby's eyes are always blazing, half-crazed when he gets out of the hole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patience

**Author's Note:**

> Season Four.  
> Prompt 11: Amnesty (LJ's Hardtime100 Community)  
> I chose to re-do the "Seven Deadly Sins" prompt, kickstarted by an ozsaur First Sentence.

Toby's eyes are always blazing, half-crazed when he gets out of the hole. He slams into the pod, smelling like sweat and piss, and Chris knows better than to touch him. Even though all he wants to _do_ is touch him, lick the grime from his skin, wallow in his scent.

Ten days without Toby is nine and a half days too many.

Chris leans against the wall by the sink instead, watches from behind half-closed eyes as Toby grabs his towel from the peg, paws through the trunk in search of clean clothes. When Toby pushes past him to reach for the toothpaste Chris holds himself taut, curls his fingers into his palms to prevent himself from reaching out.

He gives it two minutes after Toby has pushed angrily out of the pod and stalked across the common area before he calmly removes his own clothes and snakes a towel around his waist. He's been thinking about a shower anyway.

He just has one stop to make.

* * *

Chris knocks once, perfunctorily, doesn't wait for a response before he opens the pod door and sticks his head inside. "You wanna make twenty bucks?"

Ryan glances up from his magazine. "Fifty."

"I look nuts to you?"

"No," O'Reily smirks, "but Beecher does. I saw him when he came in. The hole always messes with his head, man."

"I don't like the hole," Cyril says softly.

"No one does," Ryan replies. He flicks a page in the magazine, taps a finger at a glossy photo. "You ever been to Antigua?"

"Sure, I got a summer home there," Chris snaps. "C'mon, O'Reily."

"Fifty bucks."

"Fuck." Chris edges into the pod and checks over his shoulder for the hacks, ever aware of the passing of time. Toby will be under the spray now, head thrown back, eyes closed. Just standing there, letting the water pound against him, the water pressure flattening his hair to his skull and drowning out the silent roar of the hole. Chris scrubs a hand over his jaw. "Twenty-five," he counters.

"He thinks I'm a pushover," Ryan says to Cyril. "Am I a pushover, Cyril?"

"You're not a pushover, Ryan," Cyril says solemnly.

"You're a fucking motherfucker is what you are," Chris mutters. In his minds eye he sees Toby leaning over the half-wall in the showers, water beading on his skin, the veins in his arms standing out as he braces himself when Chris comes up behind him, covers him with his body, starts the slow push inside. He blinks away the image, meets Ryan's eyes. "Thirty five. My best offer."

Ryan considers this for a moment, staring down at a photo of pristine beach and blue sky, before nodding. "All right," he says. "Only because we're friends."

"Friends." Chris snorts. "Right."

"I can raise the price back to fifty, you know."

"Give me two minutes, then get your ass to the door."

Ryan grins. "Anything you say, K-boy."

* * *

The shower room is empty but for Beecher, figure half lost in the rising cloud of steam, and a skinny boy staring at his reflection in the mirror, shaving cream forgotten on the sink. Chris glares at him, juts his chin at the door, and the boy scuttles away like a roach when the lights come on. He watches Ryan stroll over to lean against the Plexiglas, travel magazine still open in his hands, and then makes short work of divesting himself of towel and boots.

He takes the shower next to Toby, who shoots him a warning glare. Chris ignores it, lets his gaze travel over Toby's body. He's spent the last ten days with only his right hand for company, and as usual the pictures that form behind his eyelids when he's slapping at his own dick aren't ever as good as the real thing. He sidles closer, leans across to sniff at Toby's neck.

Toby reacts predictably, arm flashing out to push at his chest. "Fucking get off me!"

Chris catches the flailing arm easily. "Missed you," he says. "Can't help it."

Toby eyes him warily, and when he pulls his arm away Chris lets him go. He watches Toby make another swipe at his arms with the soap, the skin already tinged with red.

"I don't want you near me right now," Toby grits out.

Chris shrugs. He could tell Toby that he understands. The silence in the hole is too loud, thunderous, drowning everything out except the voices in your head. The hours stretch into days, weeks, until you're sure that you've been abandoned, forgotten, because who would want to remember you? There is nothing but the scritch of the rats in the walls and the stench of your own bodily fluids, and when they finally fling open the door and toss you your clothes, sometimes you barely remember your own name, never mind whatever it is you've done to merit this hellish punishment.

And when you're back in circulation the light is too bright, every voice too shrill, and you're aching for some kind of contact, some human touch, but when it comes you want to pull away, shrink back, shrivel up.

It's like that for most people, even worse for someone like Toby, who thinks too much, who's always got a rhyme half-cocked in that fucked up brain.

Chris could tell him, but instead he adjusts the water temperature of his own shower and ducks his head under the spray. Instead he eyes him carefully as Toby arcs the soap across his arm, along his chest, back to his arm, scrubs hard and raw. He waits.

"I reek," Toby finally says.

"I like the way you smell."

Toby sniffs.

Chris forgot to bring his own soap, so he simply stands under the water, hands linked lightly at the small of his back. He closes his eyes and enjoys the way the water pounds against his back, considers how long he should wait before he pounces. Ryan's not going to be able to hold the door forever.

"I've had bugs crawling all over me for the last ten days."

Chris opens his eyes, but Toby's staring down at his arm, watching the soap suds gather on his skin.

"Something huge and disgusting crawled into my mouth when I was sleeping." Toby shudders, tips his head back under the water, rinses his mouth and spits unceremoniously. "The light went out on the fifth day, fifth or sixth, who the fuck knows, and at some point I tripped over the slop bucket and ended up covered in shit."

Chris splutters out a laugh, tries to cover it with a cough. "That sucks," he manages to get out.

Toby narrows his eyes, glares at him through the spray. "You laughing at me, Keller?"

Chris blinks, schools his face into a semblance of solemnity. "Absolutely not."

Toby holds his gaze for a moment before his lips twitch. "Okay," he says. He sighs, and Chris knows the worst of it is over. Toby's back in his own head, for better or for worse. "I just fucking hate the hole."

Chris reaches out quickly, snags the soap before Toby can wear a hole into his forearm. "Then quit doing shit that gets you thrown in there."

Toby's eyes flare. "I'm supposed to just let Guerra call me a bitch."

Chris edges closer, smoothes his palm over Toby's chest. "What do you care?"

Toby slaps his hand away. "I'm not your bitch, Keller!"

Chris sighs. "How many times we gotta go through this, Toby? I know that, you know that. So I repeat, why the fuck do you care what these assholes think?"

"It's easy for you," Toby counters. He ducks his head, and Chris watches the water drip from the strands of his hair and splatter on the floor. Wants to shove him against the tile, take what he's been missing. Instead he clenches his hand around the soap, leans a shoulder against the wall. Waits.

Sometimes he thinks he spends his whole life waiting for Toby.

"That label follows me everywhere," Toby finally continues.

"Jesus Christ, Toby," Chris mutters. He pushes off from the wall. "Sayin' you're not a bitch don't do shit. You show it, and they'll respect it."

Toby raises his head. He snorts. "Right."

"You see any of those fucks tryin' to stick their dicks in your mouth?"

The corners of Toby's lips upturn. "Just you."

"I'm a risk taker," Chris drawls. "That little lesson you gave Robson is still paying dividends with the others. Work your rep, and let the other shit fall by the wayside."

Toby cocks his head. "When'd you get so wise?"

"I always been wise. You just don't fucking listen."

Toby opens his mouth to protest, and Chris takes that opportunity to push his way under Toby's shower, to plunge his tongue into Toby's mouth.

"You're very persuasive," Toby says when they part, but his hand comes up to push back at Chris's shoulder when Chris tries to manoeuvre him into the corner. "Chris, the hacks…"

Chris swipes his tongue across Toby's collarbone, ducks his head to chase the water drops across Toby's chest while his hand finds Toby's dick. Toby's fingers dig into his shoulder and when Toby says his name the second time it is more moan than warning. "O'Reily's got the door," he mumbles against Toby's chest.

"How much?"

Fifty bucks? A hundred? Chris can't remember what O'Reily charged. "Who the fuck cares?" he says. He raises his head, straightens, pushes Toby against the wall and smiles when Toby squirms against the cool tile. He realizes he's somehow kept hold of the soap and rubs it lazily now across Toby's chest, even as he nuzzles into Toby's neck, licks and nibbles at the spot behind his ear that makes him crazy.

When Toby's breath hitches, Chris breathes deeply, exhales warm and wet into Toby's ear. "I do love the way you smell," he says.

"Show me you like the way I taste," Toby growls, and Chris lets himself be pushed to his knees.

When Toby's hard cock nudges at his chin, Chris licks his lips and makes a mental note to give O'Reily a bonus. Whatever the amount was, he's sure it's worth it.


End file.
